Talyesin's Tales

On their way to register with the Department of Metahuman Affairs, Squirrelman, Ace and Blue Jay witnessed the arrival of a STAR Forces convoy, escorting a very special prisoner. Codename: Solo was his name - designed to be the most perfect soldier, he went rogue thirty years ago, and was being brought to face his crimes. But Solo had other ideas, and defeated not only the assembled STAR Forces, but the visiting Action City heroes as well. It seemed that he would have escaped, were it not for the timely intervention of a new hero...



Starring!

Matt Mattheson ......... as Squirrelman
Kimmy Sinclair ................ as Ragdoll
Rick Duncan ........................... as Ace
Stephanie Cooke ............. as Blue Jay


Guest Starring

Reed Sterling...................... as Doc
Steven Rand ............ as Showdown

with

Derrick Wolfe............. as Solo




"Boy, I was turned into the ultimate soldier before you were born," Solo says.

I crawl over to Blue Jay, where she's lying looking a little stunned next to the armoured truck. Out of the corner of my eye I see Ace has gotten the razor card out of his hand, and is doing first aid on himself.

"So?" the new guy, Showdown, asks.

"So for the last thirty years I've been fighting tougher folks than you," Solo answers. "You snuck up on me in the middle of the plaza which means you've got some skill, and from the Crouching Crane Stance you've adopted I can tell you've got some training, but there is no way a punk like you is going to beat me."

"Wolfe, I've already beaten you," Showdown smirks. "You just haven't fallen down yet."

Blue Jay is a little dizzy from flying into the truck head on, but she's shaking her head to clear it and Ace has nearly finished bandaging his hand. The pain in my left is a dull ache now, the ringing in my ears almost gone.

"You may have been pumped full of chemicals and zapped until you glowed in the dark," Showdown is saying, "and you may be a master tactician - tossing your manacles at Codebreaker's helmet to short out their communications was brilliant, by the way - but I've spent the last twenty years learning in the finest dojos, the most hidden monasteries, from the world's greatest senseis. I've mastered the Seven Touch Death and the Ear That Sees. I know the Nine Ways of Pain and the Dragon's Fang. The Eagle's Claw and the Tiger's Crouch are mine to command. I have conquered the Six Winds and the Sword of Flame, and I have acquired the Five Spirit Senses." He gives this cocky grin and adds, "I only needed the first two to know how to beat you."

Solo's attack is so sudden I don't even realize he's launched the first punch until I see Showdown recover from dodging under it. It's followed by a flurry of punches and kicks. Showdown dodges them all, all the while he's got that cocky grin on his face, like he's having fun. Solo, for all his experience, is letting the kid get to him, and that's making him angry.

Showdown dodges and weaves, never throwing a punch or a kick, letting Solo do all the work. The kid moves so gracefully it's like watching a world class dancer - his every move is fluid, he's always where he wants exactly to be, and Solo never lands a blow. It's poetry to watch.

Solo is good, I'll give him that. He launches attacks I've never even dreamed of, twisting and punching and spinning and kicking, attacking with his fists and feet, elbows and knees.

Finally he pauses his attacks.

"Give up?" Showdown asks.

"Not even close."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

What follows next is impossible to describe. Solo's first wave of attacks were just testing Showdown's reflexes. The second wave of attacks is impossible to follow, both of them giving it their all. Showdown, this time, starts giving little slaps and jabs and small kicks, designed mainly to piss Solo off. Solo's not buying it at first, but when Showdown splits his lip I see him get angry, really angry, for the first time since he exited the truck. Showdown follows up with a hard crunching blow to Solo's nose, and more blood sprays down his face. Solo manages to get in a few blows of his own, one good hard right cross that I can hear from where I'm sitting next to Blue Jay.

"We should do something," Blue Jay says.

"Like what, hon?" Ace asks. He's got a bunch of cards in his good hand, but he's holding them at his side.

He has a point. Anything we do now will only help Solo. Blue Jay or I could jump in and try to tackle him, but we'd probably wind up getting in Showdown's way. Ace could throw in a couple of cards but there's a pretty good chance he'd hit the wrong guy.

And then Showdown solves our problem for us by flipping right over Solo and hitting him three times quick in the spine. Solo goes "Uh" and his eyes roll up white and he falls, stiff as a board, to the ground.

By this point, the officers have gotten to their feet, and most of STAR Force has recovered enough to raise their stun rifles and aim at Solo, lying stiff on the ground.

Showdown wipes his lip where a trickle of blood is, then goes over to Solo. He stands over the fallen soldier and puts one fist into the other hand, giving a low bow. Respect from one master warrior to another, sort of thing.

STAR Force soldiers secure the prisoner again, with double weight chain and manacles that cover his hands and head. First Aid, their medic, gives me and Ace and Blue Jay the once-over, gives us a shot of something to accelerate our healing, all while the officers are interrogating Showdown. Eventually, they head into the building that Solo was brought into, and Showdown comes over to us.

"Nice moves, kid," Ace says, shaking his hand.

"Seriously," I add.

"Wow, Squirrelman, Ace and Blue Jay," Showdown grins at us. "It's a real honour. Thanks for your help."

"We didn't do a whole lot," Blue Jay says.

"No way," Showdown answers, "you guys kept him distracted long enough for me to sneak up on him."

"Glad we could help," Ace says, checking his hand. Whatever First Aid gave us, it's working like a charm. Ace's hand is nearly completely healed.

"What brings you to Washington?" Showdown asks.

"Registration," I say, jerking a thumb over at the main DMA building.

"Me too," he says.

"Well, maybe we can meet up for something to eat afterward?" Blue Jay asks.

"Yeah, our treat," I add. "Least we can do for you, seeing how you saved our butts."

"That would be great."

"Okay then," Ace says. "We better get our things and head in."

"Right," I say. "Thanks again, Showdown."

"My pleasure."

So we get our bags from the alley, not bothering to change back into our civvies. No point, really, since we've been seen by a couple dozen people. Besides, it's not going to be a surprise much longer that Squirrelman, Ace and Blue Jay are part of a team called the Crimefighters' League.

The four of us head into the main building of the DMA, present ourselves to the main desk. The robo-receptionist, an older governmental model that wasn't chosen for her looks, takes our names, gives us each a small blank metal card, and tells us to take a seat. It's still early enough in the morning that there aren't a whole lot of people around. A couple of guys reading the morning paper, a lady and her sleeping kid, a big guy with spiky bone bits growing out of all his joints, a woman about four feet tall with butterfly wings and purple skin, and a guy in a red and blue costume, but I don't recognize him.

"So how come you're registering after all these years, Squirrelman?" Showdown asks me.

"We're putting together a loose-knit team of crimefighters," I tell him. "Anyone who wants to be on a team has to be registered."

"Really," Showdown says. "But... I thought there's that team, in Knight City, the... Street Champions? Something like that. They're opposed to registration."

"Knights of the Street," Ace says. "They're just a gang of crimefighters. If you aren't registered you aren't an official team."

"Oh," Showdown says, then laughs a little. "This is what happens when you spend your life in monasteries all over the world, I guess."

"Don't worry about it," Blue Jay smiles at him.

The big guy's little metal card gives a little chime and he gets up, heads toward the robo-receptionist. She buzzes him through a door off to one side of the waiting area, telling him to follow the blue line.

We wait a while. Showdown's card chimes and he stands up. He starts to head over to the robo-receptionist, snaps his fingers and turns around.

"Crap," he says to us. "I forgot there's somewhere I need to be after this. Looks like that meal will have to wait."

I stand up and go to shake his hand, Ace and Blue Jay likewise.

"Well, it was good meeting you," I say.

"Thanks for saving our butts," Ace adds.

"Any time," Showdown grins.

"If you're ever in Action City, look us up," Blue Jay adds.

"I'll do that," he says, then heads through the door.

We sit down again.

"Geez, Blue Jay, what about your boyfriend?" Ace teases her, quietly.

"Oh stop, it wasn't like that at all," Blue Jay says, hitting him on the arm.

"Yeah, Ace, she always asks out strange new crimefighters she just met," I add.

"Honestly," she says, trying to cross her arms angrily and not entirely succeeding, what with her feathers.

"Sorry Blue Jay, he's just trying to-" I start to say, but Ace beats me to it.

"Ruffle your feathers."

"Har har, you guys should do stand up."

The kid's metal card chimes, he and his mom head in, then it's Ace. Blue Jay and I talk shop a while, she's got an idea for the Crimefighters' League logo she wants to tweak a little before showing it to the team. The guy in the red and blue outfit goes next, then the woman with the butterfly wings, then Blue Jay. I wish her good luck and I'm stuck there alone. They could at least give us magazines or turn on the radio or whatever. I'm about to ask one of the other guys if I can borrow a section of their newspaper when my metal card chimes.

I head over to the desk.

"Follow the red line," the robo-receptionist says.

The door opens and I head in.

I wish I could describe what happened in there but the non-disclosure agreement we had to sign states pretty clearly that I can't, not unless I want to violate the Claremont Act. Imagine a physical exam that checks not only heart rate and respiration, but all the way down to a cellular level, and crossed with a phys ed track and field event designed to test the limits of whatever powers a person has. Only longer and worse than that. Faceless robots and computer scanners will be in my nightmares for a while.

And I had the additional fun of submitting the paperwork for the Crimefighters' League after that. Let's just say I spent about six hours running around testing my powers, and another two hours getting the bureaucratic runaround. I get out of there annoyed and tired and starving.

Ace had it easier and worse. He doesn't have any powers, so it only took an hour for them to make sure he was fully normal. But then he wound up waiting for us the rest of the day. Blue Jay got out in four hours. The more powers a person has, the longer it takes. Superia told us it took them nearly twenty hours to completely catalogue her powers.

As for me, I got a hell of a surprise.

When I finally got out of there we snagged a flying cab and asked him to take us somewhere mask-friendly to eat. I figured if I was going to puke from the trip back to Action City, I didn't want to puke on an empty stomach. The cabbie, a six-inch tall guy riding around in the head of a proto-body made, apparently, from transparent goop, let us off at Stan's, a classic greasy spoon diner made from a surplus lunar cargo shuttle.

We order our food and Blue Jay asks, "What's up, Squirrelly? You've been quiet since we left the DMA."

"You know how I'm always dodging bullets and punches and getting gut hunches that something bad is going to happen?" I ask them.

"Yeah?" Ace says.

"I always figured it was because my reflexes were really good, and I was just really intuitive."

"Not so much?" Ace asks.

"Turns out I'm a Class One Pre-cog."

"Really?" Blue Jay says just as our food arrives. Burgers and fries all around, milkshakes for me and Ace, mineral water for Blue Jay.

We dig in and I say, "Yeah. That's what took so long, I kept getting tested on dodging stuff. Turns out I started dodging before the objects got launched at me. It's really low-level, immediate threat, immediate future sort of stuff."

"Well damn, son, that's good news, isn't it?"

"I guess," I say around a mouth full of burger. "Never really saw myself as a psycher, though."

"You are who you are," Blue Jay says. "This doesn't change anything."

"I guess you're right."

"And now, when you get a hunch, we'll know to listen up," Ace adds.

"Hey yeah, that's true!" I laugh. "Now you have to do what I say, because I can see the FUTURE!"

We finish up and I collect the bills, then we head over to the D.C. Telepad. It's after rush hour, so there's not a long wait. Shimmer, hum, waste of a perfectly good meal. Tasted better going down. At least it's deductable. And I managed to get my mask off in time.

I head home. Kimmy's waiting there. She's managed to cover just about every available surface with an open magazine of some kind. Well, of one kind, actually. Wedding magazines. She's on the phone when I come in so I head for the shower, change back into my civvies, toss the costume into the autowash. I give Kimmy a kiss on the cheek as I pass her, heading for the kitchen. There's some leftover pizza in here somewhere, I'm pretty sure, and I find it, only it's over a week old. I toss it out and reach for the menu drawer.

You'd think, between us, we'd manage to stock the fridge or cupboards with something resembling food, but no. We're sort of both really busy, and grocery shopping is one of our lower priorities.

Kimmy gets off the phone finally and says, "How did it go?"

"You know I can't talk about it. Long and annoying."

"Yeah, that's what I remember too."

"Pizza?"

"We had that last week."

"Fine," I say, flipping through the menus. "How was your day?"

"I told them at work I'd be willing to do freelance consulting."

"Kimmy..."

"Look, Matt, I'm not going to be spending every waking moment in costume, alright?"

"I never said you had to-"

"And besides, as a freelance consultant I can charge a helluva lot," she says, coming over and pulling out the menu for that new Thai place, hands it to me.

"Alright, fine. I'm too hungry to argue."

"About the Thai, or my consulting?"

"Both."

She gives me a little grin and says, "Oh, and Reed called. He says he has news."

"About why I fainted?"

"About Doc Steele."